Select Page

BLOG

Welcome to the blog. It’s a strange place, so before you get started, I’ll tell you how it works.

Each “blog post” is a combination of two things. Those two things are almost always an image and a poem.

Here’s what to do with them:

  1. Look at the image and pay attention to what emotional state it puts you in.
  2. Hold onto that, and read the poem. See what thoughts pop up in your mind.
  3. You don’t have to work to “figure it out.” Your mind is naturally going to try to draw conclusions, so just let it. 
  4. Repeat steps one through three until a fresh thought of your own emerges.

Ideally, you’ll leave with an insight you came up with that you’ve never considered before. Give yourself space to think about it.

To get started, you can scroll down to see the most recent pieces, or you can start with a random one.

what can be dredged?

what can be dredged (photo by lurm)

“grave danger” is not about the beginning or the end

so what can be dredged?

is the anchor stuck in moss?

growing for years
cracking like bones as i pull it loose

loose, but not free
strands of it still make trails in the deep
illuminating what i’m not supposed to see.

i saw it, just now
and it broke the whole thing.

oops.
should have closed my eyes, i guess

follow the stem

follow the stem (drawing by lurm)

everyone’s here, lightyears apart, immersed in the murky black.

reach around until you find a stem.

it might take a long, long time, but don’t stop searching for it. it’s the only thing you have in here.

once you touch it, grab it. then start cleaning it off.

wad the black mud up and push it to the sides.

hollow out a space along it where you can breathe.

follow the stem up or down. keep pulling off the slimy silt.

it doesn’t matter which direction you choose.

both ways go on forever.

in your head

in your head (drawing by lurm)

you could be escaping a burning building with every belonging in tact

you could be covering a corpse in cement

you could be watching a city crumble into the sea

or following the crack in the wall to the place ants keep coming out

or tearing your coat and skin on a barbed-wire fence

i want to know, but i don’t.

one of these four

one of these four (drawing by lurm)

the first was in danger. it kept trying to seem different from itself.

the fourth was troubled. it couldn’t find its own reason to exist.

the second was unprepared. it hadn’t yet pulled itself together when the time came for it to be tested.

the third was strange. no one could reasonably be expected to comprehend it.

safer in the dark

safer in the dark (drawing by lurm)

it’s safer in the dark.

fake skin made of smooth flawless steel
won’t protect anything.

this is all it is;
melty rubber
the inside of a grape

slippery and slimy:
it will dissolve.

the sharp cold knows what’s really there—
the shriveled seed would crack under its light.

it’s safer in the dark.

circles inside circles

circles inside circles (drawing by lurm)

circles inside circles inside circles
patterns of sounds
meaning buried under sound

break the circle with a word
and find a word
inside a word
inside a word
inside a word
word
word

now shut up.

what we’re made of

what we're made of (drawing by lurm)
we believe we’re made of rocks, or wood—
metal, but never mud—
but it’s something else.

something foreign.

we would be frightened if we understood.

reality is amorphous

reality is amorphous (painting by lurm)
reality is amorphous;
slippery.

nobody can get a grip on it.

and what we can grasp isn’t really real,
but everybody wants to grasp something.

perceptions are made of idea-pixels.

subtlety gets averaged out into a uniform box of concept-color;
the resolution isn’t very high.

the perceptions are formed without intent.

they’re formed about everything.

they’re formed about you.

if you leave perceptions up to accident,
you could be a god.

more likely you’ll be viscous—
repulsive.

it doesn’t matter if it’s you or not.

you?
well, you may as well not exist.

delete memory

delete memory (drawing by lurm)you curate the surface of your life

weeding out what you don’t like
but the reality of you is formed outside of this

your mind trapped within the bounds of everything you’ve ever done
it would be nice if you could pick and choose which realities to delete

the same way you delete embarrassing things you said online
until then, who you say you are is just a layer

until then, i can still see you on the other side

hey

maybe one day between now and then

you’ll wave back

the library

the library (drawing by lurm)

some days feel old, like they’re reused
even though they’re unfolding as new ones.

it’s like they were borrowed;
checked out of the library of days.

the contents of each page dealt at random
from a big deck of cards made up of everything that could happen.

***

this piece was the precursor to my art breeding experiment.

i know what she wants

lurm rust what she wants

i know what she wants.
she’ll do anything to hang on to it.

she keeps it with her inside a cave she made of crude iron scales.
she routinely rivets more scales in layers
over any holes in the rusty old ones.

with every layer, the cave grows smaller.

but she believes light is a threat
and rust just needs time to let it in.

she can’t stop time, but maybe, she thinks, she can block its effects.

the thing is, she can’t. and that rust …

it’s had time;
more time than she knows.

enough time for it to eat away a big enough hole
that i could see the sky on the other side—
eventually big enough
that i crawled through when she wasn’t looking.

the hole has since closed up behind me.
i’m not sure if she even knows i’m gone.

i know what she wants.
i can’t let her have it.